Freedoms

It's funny how a term can mean so many different things. How its historical and cultural context can shape its meaning. The Xhosa language has a variety of ways of expressing freedom. Freedom is translated as inkululeko, but to be free or feel free is khululeka. It is a beautiful word, really. The pronunciation is like most other Xhosa words so that it dances off the tongue as the inflection rises and lowers, shortens and lengthens. I've often thought about this word. Not because of its English equivalent, but because of the myriad of ways this word's meaning differs.

Once in New Brighton, a township on the outskirts of Port Elizabeth, I was with friends at a popular watering hole, Jeya's. I like this place and we often go there. It has a certain feeling of welcomeness, playfulness and diversity, yet I am often the only white person there. I would consider it a bar rather than a shebeen. Immediately as I walk through the heavy door bordered with thick brick there are large round plastic tables surrounded by plastic chairs, the kind one would often find on the back porch of a house in the Unites states. On the far left there are two pool tables. Most of the rear is a large bar area. The bar is an "L" shape and is large enough for at least six or eight barstools on each leg. But tonight is Saturday and it is too jam-packed for people to sit leisurely at the bar. Tonight bodies fill the area and press tightly together as the crowd ungulates towards the shelves of lively libations.

Sometimes they play sports on a very large screen and sometimes there are live performances. Tonight dance music is pumping through the gigantic speakers poised in each corner of the room. Some of the songs I recognize, many I don't. On more than one occasion several of my friends will break out into an audible acknowledgement of a song long forgotten. This is always followed by reminiscent dancing. They are all very good dancers. At the end of the song I may get an explanation from one of them about the song. It is usually difficult for me to know what the song is about. Songs are usually not sung in English. Often singers will mix a variety of languages. So even if I can pick up on some of the Xhosa words, it isn't unusual for words or phrases in Tswana, Zulu, Venda, Pedi or a whole slew of languages to be thrown in. Few, if any, songs would be recognizable outside of Africa or the African Diaspora. So I always appreciate background information as additional cultural education.

When people dance here the energy fills the room and every cell in my body. My friends dance with reckless abandon. They sing and move their bodies in sexy African rhythms. Then they laugh with large, vibrant smiles. And then find another groove and dance some more. For some reason on this particular day I just wasn't feeling the mood. This is not typical. Usually I easily slip into those African grooves and find myself dancing to the atypical beats before my mind even realizes that I don't know the words or have never heard the song before. But today I stood there sipping a large Black Label beer we were all sharing. I was enjoying myself. I really enjoy watching the guys dance and listening to them reminisce about old times. Apparently, my lack of participation was noticed and on several occasions my friends would ask me why I wasn't dancing. Or they'd take me by the hand and lead me into some dancing action that I clumsily attempted to follow. I still wasn't feeling it. Finally, almost in desperation, my friend demands that I be free.

It sounded more like "phrrrri", in part because in his fervor he really stretched it out and took time to properly roll the r's. Free? (Of course, I chuckle quietly to myself thinking that telling a woman that she should be "free" in America would immediately imply payment for some discretionary behavior and would be likely be followed by swift slap across the face.) But I know that is not what he means. He means I should be kululekile. A different kind of free. One that is unbound to material or monetary possessions. One that is more esoteric that the freedom's mentioned in the United States Constitution. This is a freedom of spirit and of self expression.

Its English equivalent is “free”, but it has an entirely different meaning. It means free to be one’s own unique self and fully express that self at any and all moments. I was being supported to find my groove and dance to the music. But what they wanted was for me to feel free to be. And to be to its fullest and truest extent. And to see me holding back, even though it wasn’t on purpose, was really painful for my friends. Khululeka is not about having legislative or legal framework to protect individual’s rights from being abused by other individuals. Kululekile is about having the right and the space to fully be who each of us are and not holding back… because this fragile and precious life deserves it.